A Fairy Tale to Dream On
by BashirXena
Summary: Tom finds a PADD with a story and has an interesting dream because of it.


  
A FAIRY TALE TO DREAM ON  
  
note: I wrote this years ago so it's kinda out of date, but still good, at least, I think  
  
Paris walked into his quarters and saw a pad on his desk. He picked it up and read it. It was titled "Pygmalion and Galatea."   
  
"Computer, has anyone been in my quarters in the last two hours," he asked the computer. He had a small idea of who it was and smiled at the thought.   
  
"Lt. Tom Paris has been the only person in these quarters" the computer stated. Tom frowned. She was hiding her tracks well. He took the pad and sat down in a chair. He'd had a rough day and he was tired but he coould read this before he went to sleep. He started reading. "Pygmalion and Galatea. This story is told only by Ovid and the Goddess of Love is therefore Venus. It is an excellent example of Ovid's way of dressing up a myth. A gifted young sculptor of Cyprus, named Pygmalion, was a woman-hater. Desting the faults beyond measure which nature has given women, he resolved never to marry. His art, he told himself, was enough for him. Nevertheless, the statue he made and devoted all his genius to was that of a woman...."  
  
Tom kept reading. When he finished he got changed and went to bed. The story filled his dreams....  
  
"Harry, I have the greatest idea for a new sculpture." Tom said excited.   
  
"And what's that?" he said smiling at his friend.   
  
"A woman," he said, his eyes glittering.   
  
"A woman? I thought you weren't to fond of women." Harry said confused.   
  
"This won't be just any woman. It will the most beautiful and brightness woman." So Tom sculpted his statue and every time he sculpted he added more to it and it got more beautiful. His skilled fingers worked and the beauty poured out of it. He couldn't hide his content. No woman ever born, no statue ever made, could approach it.  
  
He wanted Harry to see it.   
  
"Ok, Harry, close your eyes." Harry hesitated but complied. Tom stood him in front of his pride and joy.   
  
"Ok, open your eyes." Harry did so and when he did, he saw a beautiful, exotic woman One thing was strange, however.   
  
"Why did you put bumps on her forehead?" Tom looked at his sculpture.   
  
"They made her more beautiful."   
  
"Yes, I suppose they do." Harry said then left seeing that his friend was paying more attention to the statue then him. Since his creation was finished, something happened. He had fallen in love, deeply, passionately in love with it. His statue did not quite look like a statue; no one would have thought it was ivory or stone, but warm, human flesh. But from that time on, the sex he scorned had their revenge. No hopeless lover of a living maiden was ever so desperately unhappy as him. He kissed those enticing lips--they could not kiss him back; he caressed her hands, her face--they were unresponsive; he took her in his arms--she remained a cold, passive form. For a while, he pretended that she was alive; dressing her and acting as if she approved; bringing her flowers and such and imagine that she thanked him. But finally, he gave up. He loved a lifeless thing and he was utterly and hopelessly wretched. This singular passion did not long remain concealed from the goddess of passionate love. Venus was interested in something that seldom came her way, a new kind of lover, and she determined to help a young man who could be enamored and yet original. Tom had one last chance. He prayed to the goddess to bring her to life. He stood and starred at his statue. He caressed her face and then started back. Was it self deception or did she really feel warm to his touch? He kissed her lips, a long lingering kiss, and felt them grow soft beneath his. He touched her arms, her shoulders; their hardness vanished. He clasped her wrist; blood was pulsing there. Venus, he thought. This is the goddess's doing. And with unutterable gratitude and joy he put his arms around his love and saw her smile into his eyes and blush. He named her B'ella, he had heard it meant beauty. And in love were they forever......  
  
Tom woke up, his dream still fresh in his head and went to meet B'Elanna for breakfast.  
  
The mess hall doors opened and he saw B'Elanna. He picked up a tray, put some slop on it and sat across from B'Elanna.   
  
"Good morning, sunshine," he commented. B'Elanna looked like she was half asleep. "Shut up, Tom."   
  
"Whoa and an attitude to match." She didn't say anything back. He watched her play with the food on her plate. He remembered the dream.   
  
"B'Elanna, I have told you how beautiful you are lately?"  
  
"What?" she asked confused.  
  
"Have I told you how beautiful you are lately?"  
  
She shook her head slowly,  
  
"No."  
  
"Well, you are very beautiful," he stated.  
  
She blushed and smiled,  
  
"Thank you, but what brought this on?"  
  
"The story."  
  
"What story?" she asked, confused again, her blush fading.  
  
"You know," he said, somewhat confused himself.  
  
"No, I don't know." B'Elanna said a little irritated.  
  
"But I thought you...If you didn't...." Tom was stumbling, trying to figure it out.  
  
"Tom? You're stuttering."  
  
"Last night there was a pad on my desk and it had a love story on it and I assumed you put it there," he explained.  
  
"A love story?" she asked interested.  
  
"Yes." he told her the story,  
  
"And then I had a dream about it."  
  
"A dream?" B'Elanna asked even more interested. Tom blushed remembering his dream.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And in your dream, who did the statue resemble?" her interest peaking.  
  
"You. I even named her B'ella." B'Elanna was shocked. He had called her B'ella because he told her it meant beauty. She starred into his crystal blue eyes. He was sincere.   
  
"How about after our shifts, we go to the holodeck and watch the sunset?"  
  
She nodded, "Sounds like fun."  
  
"Well, shall we?" he stood up and offered his hand.  
  
"Yes, let's go." B'Elanna took his hand and they walked out hand in hand.  
  
From a secluded corner, Harry Kim smiled. Good thing he'd been cleaning out some literrary databanks.   
  
  
  
Disclaimer: you know the deal, Paramount owns the characters and such, I just own the story but not the story of Pygmalion and Galatea. I got that out of the book Mythology:Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes by Edith Hamilton. Feedback is wanted!!  
  



End file.
